


Pretending I'm a Superman

by VforVitaly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VforVitaly/pseuds/VforVitaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles spends his nights as a silent, invisible Beacon Hills vigilante, mostly stopping petty crime and helping out where he can, but when Danny becomes the victim of a gay bashing, Stiles rushes to his rescue, even if that means risking the reveal of his secret identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretending I'm a Superman

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt "Stanny Superhero AU." I've never done anything like this before, so I hope that it's alright!

            By day, Stiles is an ordinary young man, trying hard to fit in, but at night – well, sometimes, the nights when he’s not too busy doing homework, he’s out saving the world…or at least trying to.

            You see, Stiles has a secret that no one knows about – at least no one knows it’s him. Stiles can blend into his surroundings, and he can fly. He hasn’t been able to do this his whole life, but over the past few years, he’s developed a skill that he started to notice when he turned 13. He suspects that it has something to do with his mother’s side of the family, but with her premature death, he supposes he’ll never really know – however, when he’s in the night sky, he feels closer to her somehow, but maybe that’s just because he feels closer to heaven when he’s flying, and while he’s not sure he believes in god, he forces himself to believe in heaven, because he doesn’t want to think that his mom is just…nowhere.

            As soon as Stiles mastered flying, of course, he decided he had to use it for good – he’s spent his life reading far too many comic books _not_ to get a spandex suit (though he left out the cape – The Incredibles made him paranoid about capes), and fight crime. Mostly, he leaves the major crime solving to the police, but he’s sped after a purse snatcher a few times, and since he has a strong grasp on his “chameleon” abilities, no one ever really knows what’s hit them, and because they were committing a crime when it happens, no one’s reported him. Sure, there are stories about the strange “invisible vigilante,” but just like everything else unexplainable, it’s been filed under “modern suburban legend” and left alone.

            Mostly, though, Stiles just patrols, making sure that everything’s alright. The town is pretty calm most of the time, and the police are on top of most of the work, though Stiles is more than guilty of “invisibly” following along on his dad’s cases, just to make sure that nothing and no one tries to hurt the only family he has left, and maybe that’s why he does this at all, because it helps him feel as though he can protect his father.

            Tonight, though, something feels off. Stiles isn’t really sure what that is, he calls it his “spidey sense,” but it’s really nothing like that, he just thinks it’s cool to be even a little bit like Spider-Man, and even if no one else knows what he can do, he has it, and that’s what really counts. Especially because he tells himself that his mom, looking down on him from heaven, knows.

            He flies around what appears to be a silent town, that sinking feeling, that positivity that _something, somewhere_ is wrong nagging at him the whole time. He flies over the police station at least a dozen times, but no cars are going out, and he hears no sirens. Stiles closes his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to push the feeling – which is now verging on panic – to the back of his mind, because if he can’t find the problem, he can’t solve it. At the same time, he can’t let it go. Something is happening, and he flies over the town again and again, trying to figure out where it is.

            It’s not until he flies over The Jungle that he realizes his senses weren’t borked. In the parking lot behind the club, he sees something – more likely, someone, lying on the ground. He swoops down, and as he gets closer, he realizes that it’s not just a person, but Danny. Stiles lands softly, silently on the ground, maintaining his camouflage, because even with the mask he wears, he’s pretty sure Danny could “make” him if he had to.

            He pads closer until he’s standing right next to Danny, who’s on the ground, bleeding. His phone’s been stomped on, but through his jeans pocket, Stiles can see that his wallet is still in place. This wasn’t a robbery, and based on the club they’re near his best guess is “gay bashing,” and for a nice guy like Danny, that really fucking sucks.

            Stiles leans closer. Danny’s breathing, but it looks like he’s in a lot of pain, and with his phone busted, and Stiles’ at home, he decides there’s not really time to get someone’s attention – besides, dressed the way that he is, he can’t just materialize and call for help.

            With a deep breath, Stiles leans down, putting his arms around Danny, and he focuses everything that he has on not only picking him up, but launching himself into the air. He’s never flown with anyone else before, but seeing Danny like this, all bloody, slipping in and out of consciousness, his breathing labored, he can’t just stand by and do nothing.

            He gets them into the air, and flies as fast as he can towards the hospital. He knows it’s going to be risky, depositing him, but he has a ways to think about that, and right now, he needs to use all of his focus to keep them in the air, because falling? Well, that could kill both of them, and that’s the last thing that he wants to do.

            “Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Stiles says softly, figuring it’s alright to talk. Danny’s barely conscious, and when he comes to, Stiles’ voice isn’t what he’ll remember. He talks to him the whole way to the hospital, his voice low and soft, as though his words will somehow sink into Danny’s pores and in some way, provide him comfort.

            At the hospital, he gets lucky. An ambulance crew is turned away, leaning against the wall, telling jokes, and Stiles is able to lower himself, placing Danny on the empty stretcher. He flies up again,  ramming himself against the side of the van to get their attention, and watches as they spring into action, getting Danny the help that he needs.

            Stiles stays with him that night, invisible, in the corner of the hospital room where his parents have come to be with him. He hears the doctor’s say that he’s going to be alright, that he has several broken bones, but that he’ll make a full recovery, it will just take time.

            Time passes, and Danny’s back in school, everyone crowded around him, asking if he’s alright, asking him what happened, and he says the last thing he remembers was being beat up, but everything went black after a kick to the head, and when he woke up, he was in the hospital. He doesn’t know who took him there, and no one else seems to be able to explain it either, and though the family has put out a statement, a “thank you” to whoever silently saved their sons life, no one has come forward to take the credit, because there’s no reward offered, and Stiles can’t.

            However, he keeps a closer eye on Danny now. To him, Danny has always seemed strong, confident, but after his attack, there’s something different about him. He’s withdrawn, he’s quieter, and Stiles has noticed that, even once he’s healed, he doesn’t go out anymore.

            Slowly, things go back to normal, Stiles continues to patrol, stopping purse snatchers, and helping his father silently. The rumors of the “invisible vigilante” continue to grow, and some even chalk up Danny’s rescue to the unseen “hero,” but it’s more a joke than anything else, because really, who _actually_ believes in super heroes?

            It’s about 11 PM on a Thursday, and Stiles is just getting ready to go out on “patrol,” since he’s finished his homework, when he hears a knock at the door. He throws on a pair of PJ pants and a long sleeved t-shirt over his “costume,” and goes downstairs, shocked to see Danny there.

            “Danny, hey…everything okay?” Because if it is, why the hell would Lacrosse God Mahealani be doing at the Sheriff’s door at 11PM, because lord knows he’s not there to see Stiles, after all, they’re not friends.

            “Yes, no, I mean…I don’t know.” Danny looks up at Stiles, biting his lip.

            “You look exhausted, are you alright?” Stiles stands back so that Danny can enter, and his concern for the young man increases with every second, because Danny really _does_ look tired.

            “I don’t know,” Danny admits. “I just…I feel like I’m crazy.”

            “Okay…” Stiles gestures to the couch, and Danny sits down, Stiles taking up perch in an arm chair diagonally across from it.

            “I just have this crazy idea, this notion, and I just…” He looks up at Stiles, trailing off, but Stiles nods, telling him to continue because he’s not really sure what’s up. “I feel totally insane saying this, but…but it was you, wasn’t it.”

            “What was me?” Stiles asks, his heart rate more than doubling, because he knows _exactly_ what Danny is talking about, but he doesn’t know how that could be.

            “I just have this totally crazy feeling that it was you who saved me that night outside The Jungle.”

            “That’s crazy,” Stiles states, though he’s never been an amazing liar, and his voice breaks in the middle of the second word.

            “Is it?” Danny asks. “Because I have nightmares about that night, and every damn time I wake up to your voice in my head, telling me that it’s gonna be okay, and I don’t know why that would be, because you and I have never really spoken, and you’ve sure as hell never said _that_ to me.”

            “It’s probably just post traumatic stress or something,” Stiles mumbles, shifting uncomfortably.

            “I don’t think so.” Danny furrows his brow. “I can’t get you out of my head, Stiles, you’re voice, mostly, and being here right now, I feel safer than I have since the attack, and I don’t really understand how that could be, because you’re not 150 pounds soaking wet.”

            “I don’t know.” Stiles shrugs, turning red, really hoping this conversation’s over soon.

            “Stop lying to me!” Danny slams his fist down, but it’s just on the arm of the couch, so it doesn’t hurt him, nor does it make much noise. “Look, I feel totally insane right now, because I’m hearing your voice, and it’s calming me down, and I have these weird flashbacks that can’t possibly be accurate, and I don’t know what happened to me, or how I got…got to the hospital, and if you have answers, Stiles, just fucking tell me, okay? I’ll keep your secret, I’ll do anything you want, I just need…I just need to feel sane right now, because I’m going fucking crazy.”

            Stiles is silent. He looks at Danny, and he can see the distress written all over the other man’s face. It’s not something he’s seen on Danny before, and he’s open and vulnerable, the way that Stiles feels all of the time, except for when he’s invisible, or flying…or both. He knows what it’s like not to understand what’s going on, and while he knows he’ll never have all of the answers he craves, he’s managed to make peace with that in ways he’s not sure Danny will, at least not without the missing link. The link that only Stiles can provide.

            “Stiles?” Danny looks up at him, his eyes and tone of voice pleading for some kind of answer.

            Stiles doesn’t know how to explain what he did, he doesn’t know how to tell Danny that he’s not crazy, so he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and takes off, hovering above the chair for a few seconds, watching Danny’s eyes go wide, and then even wider, as he seemingly disappears.

            “So…so it’s true,” Danny whispers when Stiles rematerializes and sits back down.

            “You can’t tell anyone.” Stiles has just exposed himself in ways that he never has. He’s always been good at hiding, putting other people before him, and maybe that’s why he’s so good at what he does, but now Danny knows. “No one else knows, I don’t…I don’t want anyone to know.”

            “So it _was_ you.” If nothing else, Danny looks relieved. “You saved my life.”

            Stiles just shrugs and looks at the ground, because, well, if nothing else, he’s modest.

            “You’re amazing,” Danny says, his tone softening.

            “I’m not amazing, I’m-”

            “Dude, you’re Superman!”

            “I pretend to be,” Stiles admits, shrugging his shoulders again.

            “Does that make me Lois Lane?” Danny asks, a coy smile on his still-relieved face.

            “No, cause that would mean, I, you…” Stiles stammers over his words, and looks at Danny, confused.

            “You saved my life, Stiles, and it’s your voice that protects me from nightmares.” 

            “I don’t…I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Stiles admits, looking at Danny, who despite the relief, still looks weaker than he did, well, before.

            “I’m saying that I’m happy to be your Lois Lane,” Danny admits softly, his blush revealing something even Stiles isn’t oblivious enough to miss, and feeling safe, secure, and relieved that he finally doesn’t have to keep his secret around _someone_ , he slowly flies over to the couch and lands, kissing Danny softly, because as awkward and “invisible” as he may be, it’s kind of awesome, and really fucking hot, to know that someone thinks he’s Superman.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first REAL AU, so if I could get some feedback, that'd be great - constructive criticism absolutely welcome!


End file.
